by Meryl Sawyer
"Could you get out my computer?" he asked Kelly.
It took a minute for her to get it out of the pack. By then Rafi was asleep, his head resting against Logan's chest. For a moment, Logan forgot his pain, forgot the mess they were in.
Since he'd been Rafi's age, he'd been trained to prepare for the worst, for a time when civilization—what there was left of it—would disintegrate. He would be left alone with no one to depend upon but himself.
Make it on your own or die trying.
Life in the camp had been harsh, cruel. It focused solely on surviving the coming upheaval. As he became older he understood The Last Chance Camp thrived on anti-government paranoia. By then Logan's personality had been formed, and he had developed an emotional shield.
He was selected for the Cobra Force because of his unique ability to fend for himself, a skill the Marines had to teach other enlistees who had lived a more normal life. At the time, he regarded the others as pampered wimps, but now he wondered if something irreplaceable had been stolen from him. The ability to care.
He had never been taught to care about those around him. Amy didn't count, he assured himself. She was weak, defenseless. Someone had to protect her. That was not the same as caring. Or was it?
He glanced at Kelly, thinking he didn't have an emotional compass. Life at the camp had not prepared him for a situation like this.
Something inside him clicked, remembered. Maybe, somewhere in the dark corners of his mind, he recalled Luz Tallchief caring about him when he was a young child like Rafi.
It must be that part of him, a secret window to his soul, that identified with the little boy. After all, he had been in similar circumstances when he'd been about the same age. Yeah, that must be it.
But nothing could begin to explain why he cared so much about Kelly.
He reminded himself that emotions only got in the way. If he thought too much about her, he might try to find another way out of this mess. And get them all killed.
* * *
Chapter 33
« ^ »
Kelly paused before handing the tiny computer to Logan. All the color had been leached from his skin, yet he had a fever that made his eyes burn like the blue-white core of a flame. At least he was conscious, she attempted to assure herself. For the last twenty-four hours, she'd alternately prayed and cried, frustrated because there was nothing she could do to help him.
Over and over, one image kept replaying in her mind: Logan hurling himself between Rafi and the bullet that might have killed the child.
Where had he gotten such tremendous courage?
She seriously doubted anyone had been there for Logan when he'd needed it the most as a child. A thousand fond memories of Pop whirled through her mind like a kaleidoscope, fractured, ever changing, but the feeling of love and security remained.
"Are you all right?' she asked.
A stupid question. His eyes weren't quite focused, and the corner of his mouth drooped a fraction of an inch, something others wouldn't have noticed. But she had catalogued every inch of his face as well as his myriad expressions.
He tried to lift his head off her tote, but couldn't quit muster the strength. "Follow my directions, Kelly. This is very important."
Kelly glanced at Rafi, thankful he was nodding off. She followed Logan's instructions and contacted the Cobra Force command center.
"Raptor won't be at his station," he told her, his gritty voice pitched low. "Someone in the bunker will have to call him at home. That will take a priority clearance. You'll need to move the computer close to my hand, then press my right finger against the box on the screen. Do you remember how I did it?"
"Yes. The rain has stopped," she told him. Only a somnolent plop … plop … plop could be heard from the sheet of Kevlar above them.
He cocked his head and listened, frowning. It was all she could do not to gather him into her arms again. In her mind's eye, she kept seeing a lonely little boy betrayed by those who should have protected him.
On the screen the word PRIORITY blinked on, then off.
"Logan, what do I do?"
"Type in Code 7, then wait. They'll ask for the print next."
The print box appeared on the screen. Kelly took Logan's hand, noticing how hot and clammy it was and pressed the tip of his index finger against the screen. It took a few seconds for the scan to be completed and the computer to compare the print with their records. Finally, two words appeared in bold type: STAND BY.
Logan closed his eyes, saying, "It'll be a few minutes. Raptor will need to get to his PC before we can communicate with him."
She waited, clicking off the flashlight and relied on the glow from the small screen. Rafi was sleeping in the crook of Logan's uninjured arm, looking for all the world that this was exactly where he belonged. Already Rafi was the image of Daniel, but she wanted him to grow up and become more like Logan.
She gazed at them, her heart filled with bitter-sweetness. What she wouldn't give to have Rafi be her own son. Logan would be his father, not Daniel. It was a silly thought, she decided. They were in terrible trouble. She was distracting herself by wishing for what could never be.
A message flashed across the screen.
Nine Lives is there a problem?
Raptor
"Logan, he's responded and wants to know the problem."
"Pretend you're me. Tell Raptor that Miguel Orinda's men discovered we were in Venezuela—"
"Why? The Stanfields did this."
"Raptor won't send a chopper for us if he thinks this is a personal problem."
"I see." She listened carefully and typed in Logan's message.
When she looked at Logan again, his eyes were closed and his jaw was set at an odd angle as if he were biting down hard. Obviously, he was in terrible pain.
"Can you feel the maggots?" she asked while they waited for Raptor to respond.
"A little. It feels as if I'm being tickled."
She read him the message. "Raptor says he needs a minute to check the WeatherFax and to see if a Silver Bullet from the Anti-Heroin Task Force stationed in Cravo Norte can be sent to evacuate us."
Logan nodded, but didn't open his eyes. "Cross your fingers that the weather clears enough for the chopper to land before dawn."
"Why dawn?"
"The rain has stopped. Now the police will call in the military to help find us. Once it's light, they'll be down this trail in no time."
Before she could respond, a message appeared on the small screen.
You are cleared for a 0400 pick up by a Silver Bullet out of Cravo Norte. Weight limit 250 pounds.
R.
"Oh-400, that's 4:00A.M." Relief swept through Kelly and she sagged forward, her shoulders hunched with the weariness that she'd been holding back for hours. Soon, they would all be safe.
Then the comment about the weight limited hit her like a karate chop. All three of them could not go on the helicopter. "You're not coming with us, are you?"
"I'm doing what I promised, getting you and Rafi to safety."
She shut down Logan's computer, struggling to control her mounting panic. Logan was in no condition to get out of the jungle on his own. If she didn't have Rafi, she would take her chances and stay with him, but she did have the little boy to consider.
"There must be some way that all three of us can escape together."
"The only other option is to hack our way to Rio Arayca. Loggers float bundles of logs that they've poached from the rain forest down the river. Swimming out to them is tricky. If the crocodiles don't get you the piranhas will. Do you want to risk Rafi's life?"
It was dark in the tent again, so she couldn't see the expression on his face, but his voice had a hollow, lifeless sound that frightened her even more. She switched on the flashlight. She had to see him; she couldn't carry on this conversation in the dark
"Of course, I don't want to put Rafi at risk," she said. "But I don't want to leave you all alone when you're injured, barely a
ble to sit up let alone outrun the men on your trail. You'll—" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.
"I might not die. If any of us has a prayer of making it out on foot, it's me."
"It's the Haas Factor at work. You love taking risks. The—"
"Sure, Kelly, I really want to troop through the jungle, half dead. Then ride a log on the river from hell."
"I think that somewhere your brain has stored the memory of what happened that day you disappeared. You were very young, but you knew one of the twins had pushed you down the cliff, attempting to kill you. Surviving that fall, then waiting—helpless—as a mountain lion lurked nearby made an indelible impression on you. Danger became a thrill to you, a challenge."
His wry smile caught her off-guard. "Danger is my best friend."
"Oh, Logan, surely you don't mean that." But in her heart she knew he did. She wanted to be his best friend. Even more she wanted to give him all her love.
The thought stole the air from her lungs. She had hazy watercolor memories of Daniel, but those feelings weren't the deep, heartfelt emotion that gripped her now. Something in Logan's touch, his unique personality ignited a passion in her that Daniel never had.
Love just doesn't die a sudden death the way a person does. Instead, love slips away by degrees, not overnight. Daniel would always have a place in her heart, but she now realized that Logan was the only man she could ever truly love.
"Maybe danger drove me once." He tried to shrug, then winced. "Not now. This clearing is too small to get in a big chopper. The Silver Bullet has a pilot and a man who literally rides shotgun with an AKC47. I weigh too much to come with you."
She knew he was right, but she couldn't bear to leave him. This was nothing short of a death sentence. And she'd done it to him. How was she going to live with herself?
"Kelly, we have only a few hours left together. Come here." He patted the space on his good side.
"I'm going to take the tarp down and give us some fresh air."
She yanked the Kevlar free. The air was laced with moisture and only slightly less hot than under the tarp. Overhead beams of moonlight lanced through tattered clouds, illuminating the small clearing.
Kelly switched off the flashlight and lowered herself down near Logan. Rafi whimpered as she settled him beside her on the ground littered with twigs and wood chips. She rested her head on the mounded tarp and gazed at Logan. He smiled, the unique smile that never failed to make her pulse kick-up a notch.
"It's going to be all right, Kelly. You'll see." He put his arm around her, taking great care not to move his other arm. "I wouldn't have done anything differently, if I had to do this all over again."
"Logan, I swear, I'm going to fix the Stanfields. I—"
"Promise me that no matter what happens to me that you won't go after them. Don't get yourself into trouble. You have Rafi to consider."
"I'll remember that," she hedged, secretly promising herself that she would pay back the coward behind this. And she had a good idea just where to start.
"Kiss me," he whispered. "I like it when you kiss me."
She leaned closer, her hand tracing the strong line of his jaw. The rasp of his emerging beard beneath her fingertips brought the sting of tears to her eyes. She remembered the first time she'd discovered how erotic his beard could be. That time he had kissed her neck. Her reaction had been as intense as it had been unexpected.
Tenderness swelled inside her chest until her ribs seemed far too small for her body. Oh, please, don't let this be the last time I ever touch his beard like this. I'll do anything, anything … just let him live. He saved a little boy. He doesn't deserve to die—because of me.
Her thumb brushed his mouth, tracing the fullness of his lower lip. She savored the moment, the sparkle in his eyes, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead. His unique, high-dimpled smile.
Please, God, keep him safe, please. It hurt so much to think that she might have nothing more than this memory to treasure in years to come.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his lips so close to hers that they brushed her mouth as he spoke.
"Feeling your beard."
She kissed him, her lips gently meeting his. Soft and tender, her mouth caressed his. Taking her time, she explored the sensual curve of his lips. Then she angled her head to the side and nudged at his mouth with the tip of her tongue.
He uttered a low, throaty sound that made her want to hug him—tight. But she was afraid of hurting him, so she edged closer, setting her breasts against the sturdy wall of his chest. Her tongue found his and teased it in a light, playful way.
They'd never shared a kiss that was so sweet, so tender. Usually, his fierce eagerness fired them both. Passion underscored their other kisses, but now, he let her tell him with her lips how very much she cared about him.
"You're the only woman that I've ever wanted to kiss," he whispered when their lips parted. "Be certain you spend a lot of time touching Rafi. Touch is very important to a young child. No one ever touched me except to hit me," Logan said, his voice low and as coarse as sandpaper.
"Who?"
"My mother. Luz Tallchief probably thought Amanda McCord was a loving mother who would be thrilled to have her child returned."
Kelly couldn't imagine not wanting a child—even one who wasn't your own. She ran her hand over Rafi's head, and he burrowed closer.
"My mother claimed my father had sent me back to her because he didn't want me. She didn't want me either, but she had no choice except to take me with her to the camp."
"She didn't mention anything about them trying to kill you?"
"No. I didn't see much of her. She spent most of her time with Jake McCord, her brother. They'd been raised by my grandfather who headed an antigovernment militia in Arizona.
"When he died, Jake took over. My mother wanted out. She went to Phoenix. That's where she met Woody. She became pregnant, and had nowhere to turn, so she went home."
"She must have loved you. She kept you a year before she gave you up."
"No. Amanda and Jake had only one use for me—to get money out of Woody to buy a plot of land in the woods of northern California. They set up a bunch of tents for the band of misfits that came with them and called it The Last Chance Camp."
She gasped, unable to imagine a mother who would trade her child for a parcel of land. It was heartless, yet Logan seemed to accept it, which made her even sadder.
Evidently, he had lived with this for so long the pain this must have once caused him no longer registered. From the psychology classes she'd taken, Kelly knew this was the ultimate rejection. A mother turning her back on her child. Yet Logan continued his story as if it had never mattered to him.
"The land is owned by a dummy corporation. They pay the taxes. Believe me, the group at Last Chance knows every way conceivable to elude the government. They have an arsenal of weapons that are better than most police departments."
"Are they planning on attacking government facilities or something?"
"No. They're relatively harmless. They're dead certain that the people will see the light and rise up against the government. They want to be ready."
She tried to imagine growing up in a place like that, but couldn't. Her youth had been filled with memories of Pop and his friends. Granted, some of them were a touch weird, but that was to be expected in Sedona. It was a spiritual center which attracted New Agers.
Then there was the Native American influence. Uma and her Navajo traditions had colored Kelly's early years, leaving a lasting appreciation for nature. Pop, of course, brought a whole new dimension to her life.
These diverse elements converged, and ideas were freely exchanged. Kelly knew without being told that this was not the case at the camp. Logan had not been allowed to express himself.
"How many other children were there?"
"Five at one time. Three of them left with their parents before I was ten. Jake insisted people at the camp not have children. They
would be a burden when it came time to fight."
In some ways Jake was right, she decided. If she were alone with Logan, she would never leave him. Having Rafi changed things. Yet she could never think of him as a burden, and she was positive Logan didn't either.
Rafi was a gift, a precious gift. She touched his cheek as he slept, not quite believing her good luck in having him come into her life. She would do anything, make any sacrifice to give him a happy childhood.
"There was only two of you for all those years until you left?"
"Yes. Amy was three years older and a little slow. She was too sweet for the hard life in the camp." There was a certain edge to his voice that it didn't normally have.
"Do you know if Amy is still there?"
In the silence that followed, a breath of air ruffled a nearby vine. Droplets of water splattered their faces.
At last he said, "Amy died the year before I left the camp. We both came down with mumps. Amy's fever spiked, and nothing anyone did could bring it down. Jake flat refused to take her to a doctor. 'Make it on your own, or die trying.' That's what he always told us."
Another short silence followed, then he added. "Amy died trying."
"Oh, Logan, I'm so sorry. I—"
"Don't be." He cut her off, his voice more brusque than usual, the way it became when he shutdown an emotional reaction. "The day they buried Amy, I made up my mind to leave. On my eighteenth birthday, I walked out."
She wanted to say something to comfort him, but knew he didn't want sympathy. "I'm amazed that you knew how to create an identity for yourself."
"You wouldn't be if you saw the library at the camp. It's just a shed, but it's filled with antigovernment literature that gave instructions on everything from evading taxes to making bombs. I had no trouble coming up with identification. I used an abandoned lot about five miles from the camp as an address. I often hunted rabbits near there."
"Now I understand why you didn't want me to include this in the article."